


The Private Collection

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Book Sex, Book Threesome, Books, I Don't Even Know, Indecent Books, Jealousy, M/M, Slime, Weirdness, Xeno, goo, inhuman genitals, mofu bingo 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which Aziraphale has a rather unique book problem that he asks Crowley to help him with.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 142
Kudos: 316
Collections: MoFu Bingo 2021





	The Private Collection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Monster Fucker Bingo prompt #1 Slime/Goo. This might be the weirdest thing I've written yet.

"Aziraphale?"

Crowley pushes his way into the bookshop, phone still displaying the last text he'd been sent. Aziraphale asking if he _'might possibly be able to lend a hand'_ was really no help at all. Because that told him nothing. That was a text the angel was just as likely to send after losing a snuffbox behind the sofa as he was to send while being actively kidnapped. Honestly, Crowley has to teach him to add a smiley face or something if it's not a bloody emergency.

He strides deeper into the shop, seeing nothing but books and dust, an empty desk chair, empty spaces between shelves. _"Aziraphale!"_

There's a faint muffled thud. "I'm in the back."

"I'm already in the back," Crowley hisses, glaring at the spread of soft furnishing and bookshelves and the entrance to the small kitchenette. All completely devoid of angel.

"In the private collection," Aziraphale calls.

Of course, of course it had to be the private bloody collection. Crowley finds the bookshelf with mystical symbols carved into the edge and lays a hand on it. The markings crackle under his touch but obediently activate and the whole thing briefly ceases to exist, allowing him to step through into the very back of the shop. 

Aziraphale had added the protected space for the books in his collection which couldn't be safely looked upon by human eyes. The walls are covered by solid oak bookshelves, but there were also three glass cases, a few sturdy altars with books chained to them, and one rather weighty tome covered in small bones, that seems to be nailed to the wall. Crowley trusts Aziraphale's judgment, he knows he wouldn't mistreat a book without good reason. Not unless it deserved it.

Talking of the angel. He's currently leaning over a table in the middle of the room. He'd abandoned his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. A thick leather-bound book is closed in front of him and he appears to be...wrist-deep in its cover.

"Whhffk?" Crowley decides.

Aziraphale looks up. "Ah, there you are, fantastic." He pulls his hand free - with a nasty wet _schlorp_ of a sound - to reveal that he's wearing a purple nitrile glove, which is coated in some sort of shiny grey-green slime. A thick blob of it drips free while Crowley watches and lands on the table with a wet noise. "Abyssal Labyrinth Theory got a bit testy and ate the key to shelf sixteen. I'm having a bit of a root around but its internal dimensions are tough to navigate."

Crowley drifts closer, so he can get a better look at the book in question. The cover itself is a rather boring pale brown, with faded black lettering and a few symbols that he suspects would already be prying the secrets out of his head if he was a bit more mortal. But in the centre there's an opening, like the unfolded petals of a sickly green flower, overlapping and fleshy, and glistening with slime.

"It does this occasionally just to get a bit of attention," Aziraphale explains. Which Crowley has to replay in his head a few times just to make it stick. A bit of attention? Is that what the angel's calling shoving his whole hand into a book's fleshy orifice.

"It wants you to -"

"Oh yes, fiendish little thing." Aziraphale sounds unreasonably happy about that. "Once I've had a bit of a rummage inside it usually gives up whatever it's swallowed. It's ever so docile afterwards, lets me chain it right back up again."

"I bet it does," Crowley hears himself say.

"Yes, but it's being a bit of a pain today." Aziraphale frowns at the book as if he's very disappointed in its behaviour. "I've been shoving my hand in for almost an hour now and nothing."

"Maybe it's annoyed that you're wearing a condom," Crowley drawls, with a pointed look at Aziraphale's glove.

The angel blinks, looks at his hand. "Oh, the secretions have a tendency to tingle if you let them sink in, the numbness isn't too bad but it makes turning pages difficult for a while."

"Am I the only one of us who thinks this is weird?" Crowley asks desperately.

Aziraphale has the decency to look awkward at least. "It's certainly not ideal, I admit," he starts, but Crowley decides not to let him finish. Aziraphale calls, he comes, and that's not a habit he's willing to break. 

"You know what, fine. You asked for my help so here I am." He strips his own jacket off and pushes his sleeves up. "I guess we're making this a threesome," he says, ignoring Aziraphale's embarrassed sputtering. He can't resist the snipe, it's not like they've ever even had a twosome, but he refuses to be jealous of a book. "What do you need me to do?"

The angel looks guilty now, as if he's having second thoughts about letting Crowley shove his fingers inside any unknown slimy orifices. The things Crowley will do without question for one ridiculous angel.

"I was hoping that you'd hold down the corners so it can't wriggle away."

The book doesn't look like it has any intention of wriggling away. The moment Aziraphale gets close again its gooey petals spread open, the soft, fleshy interior flushing a deeper green, slime starts to visibly leak from the swollen folds. But Crowley obediently leans over the table, laying his hands on an upper and lower corner - which seem unnaturally warm and oddly squirmy in a way he's fairly certain a book shouldn't be - and letting his weight pin it to the table.

"Like this?"

"Perfect, thank you." The angel's gloved fingers touch the centre again, and then push in, stretching the wet mass of it open. The squelch of him pressing inside is obscene, and Crowley is mortified to discover that he's stiffening in his jeans at the sight of it. Three fingers become four as the angel twists his wrist and sinks deeper. The book shudders under Crowley's firm grip, though it doesn't seem angry or afraid, the warm vibration is far more pleased. It's leaking slime around the meat of the angel's hand, strings of it stretching and snapping when Aziraphale works his fingers out and then back in again at a different angle. 

The book is clearly having a fantastic time. Crowley has an erection he feels weird about. The angel is panting and straining as he pushes his way inside to the wrist, his pale forearm glistening and slippery.

Today has certainly come out of nowhere. 

Crowley is incapable of looking away as Aziraphale coaxes the fleshy orifice open wider, with a series of slow movements that Crowley is going to be seeing every time he closes his eyes. One particularly aggressive push has pale green goo spattering the table, and Crowley's hands. Odd little prickles of sensation against the skin.

The pages, which are still pinned mostly shut, give a muffled, raspy flutter and then go still.

"Aha!" Aziraphale draws his hand free, sopping wet and dripping slime, but holding a large brass key.

Crowley looks down.

The book's opening is now spread wide, it's swollen petals flushed a deep green, they're throbbing and shivering, drooling liquid across the entire cover, and Crowley's hands - which he quickly lifts and shakes, leaving droplets spattered across the floor.

Aziraphale is smiling at him, which is deeply unfair.

"Thank you for -"

"Sexually satisfying a book with you?"

Aziraphale blushes.

"Yes, well, I didn't realise it would be so delighted to be held down," he admits.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Private Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589123) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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